


High grade

by ToodleBoog



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, My First AO3 Post, Public Blow Jobs, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 07:16:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18089843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToodleBoog/pseuds/ToodleBoog
Summary: Tailgate and cyclonus drink at swerves bar, tailgate drinks to much and starts to get a little handsy





	High grade

**Author's Note:**

> This is like my first fic that I'm posting please go easy on me lol

It was a late night at swerves, Cyclonus and Tailgate had settled in their usual seat in the corner, away from the usual bustle of the bar crowd. Tailgate had ordered a fruity, bubbly blue concoction of something sweet and had been sipping at it steadily for the past cycle or two. Cyclonus absolutely adored the small mech, really. There was something about the way tailgate, well, just was that made the purple warrior go soft in the middle. When they had proclaimed their love for each other Cyclonus felt his spark nearly explode. There was something about this minibot that made him inconceivably happy, and yet he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Simply put, tailgate was perfect.

Swerve walked around the bar, stopping at their table periodically to ask if there was anything else that they needed. Cyclonus asked for a mild drink, nothing much. He knew his frame couldn't handle enjex like it used to, he just felt awkward sitting quietly at the table with tailgate with nothing to show for it. Swerve bounced off and in a moment was back with the order. Cyclonus grumbled a thank you and took it.

  
He took a sip, the heady burn tingling all the way down his intake and into his tanks. He didn't mind it by now, he had gotten accustomed to the raw feeling it left in his throat and he dimmed his optics as the fog settled over his processor. He looked over to Tailgate, sitting happily on the other side of the table, his oral port latched around the bright pink curly straw and sipping away. The minibot gazed back with a squint of his visor, his version of a smirk, and that's when the night had been completely flipped upside down.

Cyclonus jolted in surprise as he felt a small pede press against his modesty panel from underneath the table, his faceplates glowing slightly pink as energon rushed through his frame to certain parts. He gave Tailgate a wide-eyed, surprised look, but for whatever the reason, he didn't want him to stop.  
Tailgate looked at him, tilting his helm in a sly manner, questioningly. The warrior felt his intake go dry, he glanced away and took a sip of his drink, but bucked ever so slightly into the intruding pressure. Just enough to jerk tailgate’s leg back the tiniest fraction. Tailgate took the hint and squinted his visor devilishly, pushing his foot harder into cyclonus’ codpiece slowly.

  
The purple mech’s servo’s shook with the strain of not rutting his hips back into the minibot’s leg. Even though they were in a somewhat secluded area of the bar, didn't mean that people couldn't see them. Cyclonus felt his fans click onto a higher setting, his frame was heating up rapidly as flushes of heat spread through his body, settling over him like a thick blanket. He felt his back vents, the ones he didn't have control of, flare open and the small snnkt they made echoed through his head several times over.

  
Tailgate chuckled quietly and dragged his foot excruciatingly slow along the length of his panel, slowly teasing him. the pressure behind his panels grew to a painful point and Cyclonus bit his knuckle, holding back a groan that was desperately pleading to escape. He found himself bucking into the touch, his hips moving in time with the small movements. With a particularly hard shove, Cyclonus felt his panels snap back without his command. He let out a small ‘urk!’ in surprise, his valve leaking and his spike extending to it's full length.

  
Tailgate noticed this and locked eyes with the horned mech, setting his drink down. The purple mech groaned quietly as tailgate took his foot back, his servos clenching tightly as he lost the friction his array so desperately needed. Cyclonus watched tailgate as he dimmed his visor, and ducked underneath the table. The warrior felt ghosting servos over his spike and he bucked up, surprised, but he was quickly left whining in frustration as those little hands disappeared. He heard a snicker from under the table and he reached his hand under, feeling around for the little minibot, who eluded his grasp. He got to the point where the burning throb in his array became so much that his thighs were jerking. His spike throbbing and twitching needily. He was just about to reach a servo down to self service when he felt small hands grab the base of his spike.

  
He jumped, drawing in a sharp breath and quickly stuffing a servo over his face to stifle the shakey moan that tried to escape him. He held his drink in a trembling fist and stared straight ahead while venting harshly, trying not to give away any indication of what was happening. The small hands moved, slowly trailing their way up his spike, wedging little digits into the seams and massaging clusters of nodes. He shook with the strain of not bucking his hips as the little servos took a liking to overstimulating a certain cluster of sensors right underneath the head of his spike. he reached his hand under, attempting to swat at the offending limb and the touch disappeared again.

  
Cyclonus panted, offlining his optics and digging his claws into the edge of the seat. He couldn't take this teasing. Not for much longer before he snapped. He looked around the bar and found that everyone was oblivious, the usual clatter from the patrons drowning out the small sounds he was making. He commed tailgate on his private channel.

  
: Please! : He begged. He let desperation bleed into his tone. His cooling fans were on their highest setting now, blasting and trying to sooth the hot flushes of heat that spread through his frame. He felt the hands lightly hover over his valve and he sputtered, cooling fans crunching as he tried to not jerk towards the feeling. One of those hands rested itself at his knee and slid it's way up the outside of his thigh, settling itself at his hip. Tailgate wormed his digits in between the plating and to the sensitive cables below and cyclonus sucked in a sharp breath, clutching the glass he was holding so tight that he thought it might break.

  
The minibot parted his knees and sat in between them, keeping his hand lodged in his hip. There was the soft ‘snnnkt’ of tailgates oral port opening from under the table and cyclonus felt the hand at his hip push him down into the seat, making it so he was unable to jolt his hips, even if he tried.

  
He gasped rather loudly as tailgate pressed his mouth to his outer node and sucked, his back arching slightly, the beginning of an overload starting to form. He now understood the hand holding him down. Tailgate used his other hand to finger cyclonus’ valve, sliding his digits in and hitting all the nodes that he knew made Cyclonus squirm.

  
“GAH!” Cyclonus blurted, his fists slamming into the table. A few patrons in the bar glanced over at him before resuming whatever they had been doing. He shook as he held still, his wingtips now tinted pink as energon rushed to them. Tailgate pinched a wire in his hip and he let out a noise equivalent to that of a squeak, but he’d never admit it if he was asked.

  
“T-tailgate…” he groaned quietly, moving a hand down to rest on the minibot’s head.  
“Yes?” he whispered as he pulled away, a devilish glint in his optic visor. He didn’t remove his hand from Cyclonus’ valve however, still stroking nodes deep inside of him as the mech above him struggled to keep a straight tone.

  
“W-why here?” Cyclonus sputtered out, gripping the edge of the table as the teal mech’s fingers found his ceiling node and was rubbing it profusely. Tailgate leaned forwards and rested his helm against the purple mech’s stomach, right next to his spike. He shoved his fingers further in, thrusting in and out of the mesh lips. Cyclonus doubled over and leaned against the table, tailgates grip on his hip tightened as he bucked forwards, leaving dents in the plating. He would have to buff those out later. Senseless

  
“Hmm, i don't know... I like seeing you squirm, I guess.” tailgate said. Cyclonus seriously wondered what was in that drink that swerve had given him. He reached over and grabbed the glass, bringing it close to his face and sniffing it. He reeled back and coughed as the intoxicatingly strong scent of static overwhelmed his processor. It gave him a burning feeling in his intake and tanks, and stung the hell out of his olfactory sensor.

  
“Tailgate was that highgrade!?!” he whispered. He heard tailgate’s giggle from under the table.  
“Maaay-Hicc!-yybbe.~” he hiccuped, moving his servos even faster now. Cyclonus grunted and pushed the glass away from his face. He bit his knuckle as tailgate worked over his valve, a steady heat building in his tanks.

  
“T-tailgate, i'm!- i'm gonna!~” he mumbled through his fist quietly, rutting his hips the best he could. Tailgate got the gist and put his mouth port back on his outer node and sucked hard, thrusting his fingers in and out, striking his ceiling node each time.

  
“Ahh! AHHH!~” he moaned, his spike spurting a stream of hot transfluid onto his stomach and the underneath of the table, his valve clamping down on tailgate’s fingers as overload struck him. He buried his face in his elbow as he rode out the waves of pleasure, his optics blacking out and his legs trembling.  
He heard tailgate quietly bring out a cloth as he sat there in the afterglow, carefully wiping down his chest and equipment and (thankfully) the table.

  
All things considered, they probably should leave. Tailgate stood up from under the table and cyclonus winced as he noticed lubricant staining his face. It wasn't enough to be noticeable to the passer by however. after a slurred moment of resetting his vocalizer he spoke.

  
“You’re next, minibot.” he said with a half lidded smirk.


End file.
